


The Night Before

by Boeshane42



Series: Night Before / Morning After [1]
Category: Torchwood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boeshane42/pseuds/Boeshane42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth is tripping. John comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: drug use, sex while one participant is under the influence (some may consider it non-con). In case you missed it before or unclear about RPF: this is pure fiction using the names of real people. I made it up.

The music inside the small LA club is deafening. John winces at the loud bass as he passes through the crowd. He never liked industrial music; it always sounds like noise to him.

There are a few dozen people, some on the dance floor and some at the bar, but the club is not particularly packed. He’s not surprised that no one spares him a second glance – this doesn’t seem like the sort of crowd that would know who he is.

He spots Charlie, Gareth’s assigned handler, in the back by the emergency exit, waving at him. He hurries over there, and has to yell into Charlie’s ear to be heard over the music. “Where is he?”

Charlie gestures to the door. “Back there, he’s calmed down a bit… I got him some water,” he yells back. 

“Can you get a taxi and have it waiting out back?”

Charlie nods. “No problem. You think you can you handle him by yourself?”

John sends him a thin smile. “I hope so.”

He pats Charlie on the arm and goes through the door. Behind it is a dank corridor, its walls painted black, and at the very end is another door with a sign reading ‘Stairs’. John heads in that direction.

As the second, heavier door closes behind him the music becomes muffled, nearly muted. Gareth is sitting on the landing, his back against the wall. Beside him is an open bottle of water. He looks up when John appears and his eyes narrow.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He called you?” 

John gives him a look. “It was either me or the paramedics.” 

Gareth sighs, closes his eyes momentarily. “He was overreacting.”

John considers him for a long moment. “It didn’t sound like it over the phone,” he says carefully. “He said that you were having a… meltdown… that you were freaking out.”

Gareth reaches for the water bottle. “Yeah, well, I’m fine now. See? All better.”

John comes closer and crouches before him. He takes in the unnaturally pale face, the blown pupils, and the way Gareth’s hand shakes as he brings the bottle to his lips. “You don’t look ‘fine’. What did you take?” 

The younger man glares at him. “Oh, fuck off, John!” 

John huffs, annoyed at his attitude. “I’m doing you a favor, you idiot. Do you know what will happen if this gets out? That you’re pulling crap like this during a convention? Do you miss being unemployed?” 

“No one cares.” Gareth snaps.

John is about to call him an idiot again but stop before the words leave his mouth, reminding himself that he’s there to try and diffuse the situation, not aggravate it. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his tone calm. “People know your face now. If you want to do this shit, you do it in the privacy of your own home,” he says instead.

Gareth blinks, looks away. He sets the water bottle down again and rubs his temple, wincing.

John sighs. “Are you going to be okay? I’m serious now,” he asks quietly. “Charlie’s getting a taxi, but if you need a doctor--”

“—No.” Gareth cuts him off, shakes his head. “It’s… better now. I can handle it.”

He doesn’t look too sure, though. After a beat, he braces one hand on the wall and slowly climbs to his feet. John hovers close, just in case, but after another minute Gareth no longer looks like he’s about to keel over.

“Did you do coke?” John asks neutrally.

Gareth sends him a somewhat shifty look. John raises and eyebrow and the corner of Gareth’s mouth quirks up. “Among other things.”  

John rolls his eyes. “You’re too old to be this young and stupid,” he chides. He leaves it at that because, judging by the expression on Gareth’s face, a telling off is the last thing the man needs. Even if that weren’t the case, John is hardly the right person to scold him. 

“I’m not even thirty, you twat,” Gareth retorts before finally pushing away from the wall and starting toward the club’s back exit. John shakes his head and follows, relieved when he sees the taxi waiting in the deserted back alley.

When Charlie spots them he comes out of the passenger’s side and opens the back door for Gareth. “You okay, man?” he asks quietly. 

Gareth mutters “fine” and gets in. John goes to the other side and joins him in the back seat. Charlie instructs the driver to take them back to the hotel, and he pulls out and onto the main road. 

It’s a short drive, not even fifteen minutes. As they approach the hotel Charlie asks the driver to go directly into the underground parking. John is thankful for his foresight when they drive past the hotel’s front entrance and he notices the cluster of fans standing and smoking outside.

They manage to get into the elevator without incident, but John tenses up when it stops in the lobby on the way up. There’s only one young woman standing there as the doors open, and she does a double-take when she recognizes them. John plasters on a smile, noticing from the corner of his eye that Charlie casually positions himself between her and Gareth when she walks in.

“Hi. How are you doing?” John asks her warmly, trying to keep her attention focused on him. 

She smiles shyly back. “Great. Having a very good weekend. You?”

“I’m having a great time too—“ He glances at her nametag. “—Marcy.”

The elevator stops at the fifth floor, and John wishes her a good evening as she walks out, her face a little awestruck. 

Once they’re alone again, he relaxes and glances at Gareth, who’s looking back at him with undisguised amusement. “I’m really glad you’re finding this funny,” he says, but there’s no real sting behind it. “You have your room key?”

Gareth starts patting his pockets, and eventually comes up with the card. They step out on the top floor and take a right. It takes Gareth three tries to get the card in, but finally he manages to open the door. Once inside the suite John and Charlie remain standing in the small sitting area as Gareth continues into the bedroom, virtually ignoring their presence. 

“Someone should probably keep an eye on him,” Charlie says. 

John nod. “Yeah, I’ll stick around for a while, make sure he sleeps it off.”

“Okay, if you need anything, I’m in seven fifty three.” 

He turns to go, but John stops him with a touch to his shoulder. “I… know you weren’t technically on duty tonight, but I really appreciate the help. I know Gareth will, too, when he wakes up tomorrow.” He would especially appreciate it if Charlie kept his mouth shut about all this, John thinks, but doesn’t actually say the words. 

Charlie smiles. “It’s fine, really. And I’m always on duty.” He nods towards the bedroom. “I’m supposed to pick him up at 10 am for photo ops. You think he’ll be up for it?”

“Up and running,” John assures him.

After he leaves, John locks the door behind him and goes into the bedroom. Gareth is face down on the oversized bed, on top of the covers. His clothes and shoes are still on, and his feet are dangling off the end of the bed. At first John’s sure he’s passed out, but then realizes he can hear him humming softly.

John toes off his own shoes and then climbs on the bed as well. He pushes some of the pillows aside and sits up against the headboard. Gareth stops humming as the mattress dips, turns his head to look up at John. 

“Are you babysitting me?” 

“Yes. Go to sleep,” John tells him. He picks up the remote from the bedside table and turns on the television. “For the record, if I get to the photo ops tomorrow with bags under my eyes I’m blaming it all on you.” 

Gareth sighs. “Poof.”

John frowns at the TV, then flips the channel. “You know that stopped being an insult a while ago, right?”

Gareth replies with an unintelligible mumble. He somehow manages to kick off his shoes without actually moving too much, and then crawls further up the bed to bury his head between two pillows. 

John starts watching a rerun of American Idol with the sound turned low. After about ten minutes however, he notices that Gareth is humming again. “Are you too hyped to sleep?” he asks, looking down at him. 

Gareth shifts on the bed a little, but doesn’t answer. A couple of minutes pass and eventually he sighs loudly and turns around to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

The problem becomes apparent immediately and John smirks. “You’re hard,” he notes, trying not to laugh. 

Gareth flushes a bright red. “It’s not you, it’s the drugs,” he says, exasperated. 

John grins down at him. “Well, it’s  _me_  that’s in bed with you right now. I could help you take care of that.” 

“Ew, fuck off…” Gareth answers, making a face. “Go take a walk outside or something, come back in ten minutes.”

John laughs incredulously. “I’m not waiting in the hall while you’re having a wank, forget it.”

Gareth groans loudly in frustration and covers his face with his hands. 

It’s not an invitation by any means, but John takes it as one anyway. He figures that Gareth will let him know if he really doesn’t want this. Slowly, he reaches a hand down and unbuckles Gareth’s belt. 

Gareth’s hands slide off his face and he stares at John with wide eyes. 

John proceeds to unbutton his jeans and then reaches inside to stroke him. When Gareth just gapes and makes no move to stop him, he takes it as an encouragement and moves to kneel between Gareth’s legs. It’s easy, almost too easy, to push the waistband of the briefs down just enough to take Gareth’s erection out. He pauses for a second, looking appreciatively at the hard cock before taking it into his mouth. 

There’s a slight intake of breath from Gareth, followed by a harsh exhale. John goes up and down a few times, applying suction and working his tongue. Gareth has a long cock and he has to relax his throat in order to take it all the way in, but the effort earns him an appreciative moan. John pulls back a little, strokes his tongue across the head and then deep throats him again.

Gareth gasps and reaches a hand down, fists it in John’s hair. John takes a deep breath and then lets Gareth hold his head in place and fuck his mouth. He looks up, sees Gareth’s eyes screwed shut, his face flushed, twisted almost as if he were in pain. A full-body shudder goes through the younger man. Gareth arches up, pulling John’s head downwards none-too-gently, and shoots down his throat, groaning hoarsely. John swallows around the twitching cockhead and withdraws as Gareth’s fingers in his hair loosen and go slack. He coughs a little, catching his breath, and glances up, not quite able to wipe the smug expression off his face. 

Gareth looks at him a little dazedly. “I can’t believe you just did that,” he says in a low murmur. 

John raises an eyebrow, considers saying ‘You weren’t exactly putting up a fight’ but decides against it. “I was kind of counting on you not remembering this in the morning,” he says instead, tucking Gareth back into his jeans. 

Gareth huffs. “For your sake I hope I don’t, otherwise the next person that asks me what it’s like to kiss John Barrowman is going to get more than they bargained for.” 

John chuckles and climbs back up the bed, settling against the headboard again. “ _That_  I’d like to see.” 

Gareth turns his back to him, and sighs. After a few minutes he finally seems to relax, his breathing turning deep and even. Drowsily, he murmurs, “Don’t fucking rape me in my sleep.”

John rolls his eye. “You’re one messed up kid, you know that?” he says, and the words turn him solemn. He looks sideways at Gareth’s turned back, but the other man has already fallen asleep.

 


End file.
